


Unexpected

by OrchidPeach560 (Miss_Webb)



Series: Quilson [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming Out, Dead OC's, Everyone's alive, Excpet for those i kill of in the story, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No island, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rated For Violence, Rated for future chapters, for now, no major charactors though, only mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Webb/pseuds/OrchidPeach560
Summary: Oliver Queen has got a secret. Slade Wilson has got a dark past. Horrible event's lead them to the same place at what looks to be one of the worst moments in their lives. They bond, sharing things with each other they swear to never tell another soul. They both feel empty and like half of a person, so maybe together, they can become whole.





	1. Rain

    It was raining. Of fucking course, it was. Oliver thought to himself, as he dragged the duffel bag deeper into the forest. It was cold, and his foot kept sliding into the mud and he’s fallen at least three times. He groans as his hands ache with the pain of the drawstrings digging into his hands. Stopping for a break, and sighs. He just wants this fucking night to be over. His head is pounding, and it’s gotten to the point where he can’t tell the blood on his forehead from the rain. He grabs the bag, pulling again, and this time when he does, he falls backward, sliding with the sudden give of dirt, he and the bag go sliding down the hill. He yells trying to catch himself but the fall is steep and he doesn’t get a handle on gravity until he hits the ground.

    He sits there a moment, feeling the ache go up through his entire body. But he has to do this, he has to keep moving. So he stands, climbing a bit of the hill to get back to the bag, and he continues dragging. Over the roar of the rain and storm, he doesn’t hear it. The sound of a shovel hitting the wet dirt and being thrown into a pile. He doesn’t notice until he passes through a few trees and is in direct line of sight of someone, a man digging a hole. Oliver freezes, eyes going wide. Shit… no one was supposed to be here.

    The man also stopped his movements and looked to Oliver in a similarly shocked gaze. It was a still silence between them, aside from the storm. Like two deer in headlights. Oliver was freezing through his clothes completely, shivering so hard that his teeth chattered. It felt like his heart stopped in this moment, everyone was going to know, everyone was going to find out and his life would be ruined.  He might even go to jail after this. His body finally gives out and he falls to the ground collapsing, resigning to his fate.

    His entire body is sore, and it’s a painful relief to just stop trying, and he cries, just starts sobbing, and it’s okay because you’d never be able to tell with how much rain and blood is on his face. The man’s shoulders relax, and he drops his shovel and slowly walks around the hole he’s dug.

    “A-are you okay, kid?” The man’s voice is hoarse as if he’s been yelling a lot. Oliver’s not sure he could manage words if he tried at this point. He’s just so cold and tired. So instead of speaking, he shakes his head.

    “What’cha got there? In that bag?” The man asks stepping closer, and Oliver knows it’s too late, there’s no way to lie about the body in. Oliver just shakes his head again, sagging in further with the dirt and flood of water pooling in the soil.

    The man walks over kicking the bag slightly, and sighs. Oddly, it sounds like a relief. Why would he be relieved knowing it’s a body? The man turns back to Oliver, crouching down.

    “Look, kid, I don’t got a whole lot of time, and I’m in a pickle. You’ve got a dead body, and I’ve got a dead body. Let’s bury them and move on.”

    WHAT.

    Oliver looks past the man over at the hole, and sure enough right next to it, is the body of a man. Oliver blinks a few times making sure it’s real, and he looks back to the man standing in front of him. Of course, why else would someone be out here digging a hole? Oliver nods frantically and the man smiles.

    “Good.”

    He grabs the duffle bag, and he pulls it over to the hole, kicking it in. Then onto the body lying there, then he starts pushing the dirt back into the ground. Covering them. Just like that Oliver starts to see his future come back into view. He gasps, feeling the air come back to his lungs.

    The man walks back over once the hole is filled. Slightly raised with the bodies but no one would be the wiser, especially with how the rain would even out the dirt overnight.

    “You’re bleeding kid.” The man says. “Let’s get out of the rain.”


	2. Two Stars

The hotel is two-stars at most. But Oliver doesn’t complain. He doesn’t do anything but sit there on the squeaky lumpy mattress. That and shiver. He’s still shivering, he’d stopped in the car when the heat was on, but he’s still soaked through and as soon as they were out he was right back where he started. The cold is good in a way, he was too hot before… when it all began to happen. Now that he was cold, it was a reminder that he wasn’t there, that it was over.

It was over, right?

It had to be. He couldn’t handle anymore, he couldn’t… explain it. Suddenly he’s panicking, wondering if anyone saw him drag the body out, wondering if anyone knew where he was going when he left. If anyone saw his head they’d sure ask questions. What was he going to say? What is a lie they’d believe this time?

There’s something drawing his attention, but he ignores it in favor of overthinking and panicking. When a warm hand presses down on his shoulder, he flinches hard. Suddenly reminded he’s not alone in the hotel.

“Uh, what?” Oliver finally says, standing up from the bed. The man looks at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“I said you should take a shower. You’re covered in mud.”

Oliver shakes his head. “I should go home.”

“You got someone waiting for you there?” The man asks.

“My roommates?” Oliver shrugs, he’d left Tommy behind at the party, but he might be home by now. Wondering where Oliver was.

“I don’t think you’d want them to see you covered in dirt and blood. Even if it is your own.”

Oliver nods, agreeing. It’s not smart at all. “Okay. I’ll shower first.” He stands up then and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Looking in the mirror was a mistake. He’s filthy, covered in dirt and blood. It’s even all in his hair making it lump together.  He tears his eyes away from the mirror and undresses, dropping his clothes to the floor, kicking them into a corner. His fingers shake as he reaches for the knob but he ignores it, turning on the hot water. After a few minutes it’s so hot it’s almost painful, but Oliver ignores that too.

It was relaxing to watch the dirt rinse from his body. In some ways, he still felt dirty, but with this, he could forget. It’s painful when the hot spray reaches his hair. The wound on his forehead stinging painfully, but he gets through it. Until his hair has been thoroughly rinsed. When his skin starts feeling tender to the touch is when he finally decides to get out.

He wraps a towel around himself and curses. The soreness in his back grows stronger now that the panic and adrenaline has dissipated. His entire back aches.  When he walks back into the room, there’s a suitcase on the floor, pulled open. It’s then he realizes that he’s got no clothes to change into.

“You can take what you need to wear. I think my shirts may be a bit big on you but the pants should do well enough.”

Oliver nods, hesitantly grabbing the first two clothing items in the bag, and stepping back caustically. The first is a flannel shirt and the second is a pair of dark black sweatpants. His shoes would be fine for now and he had no problem going commando.

“Thanks,” Oliver says. Turning to go back into the bathroom to change.

“Before you get dressed sit down.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow at the man, in question, and the guy smiles.

“Don’t flatter yourself, just need to make sure you don’t get these clothes bloody either.” Oliver sits at the man pulls a pack out of the suitcase. It’s filled with what looks like medical supplies. It’s well stocked past the average medical kit someone might carry around. It’s got needles gauzes, medical tape, thread, and multiple ointment packages. When the bag is emptied he can see Band-Aids and syringes filled with liquid.

Oliver wonders why this man has this all prepared and with him.

“Let me see your head first.”  

Oliver leans forward pressing his head into the man’s reach as he stands over him.

“Well, it doesn’t look like it will need stitches. I suggest you don’t touch it though, it could get infected.” The man places a gauze on Oliver’s head, and tapes it on as best he can with the length of the gash on Oliver’s head. He moves on to Oliver’s hands and tsk’s.

“These have got some serious rug burns on them. Dragging the bag was not a good idea.”

“I know.” Oliver sighs, looking down at his hands. They hurt, and he’s sure trying to make a fist at this point is impossible.  “I didn’t have much of a choice.” The marks are deep red, and purple in places. They sting horribly with every movement. Suddenly he’s thinking about the drawstrings, about the bag, about the body. He closes his eyes hoping it will stop the images but the at just seems to make them stronger. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He- he killed someone. Someone is dead, he killed someone.

“Hey, you alright kid? Calm down.”

“I can’t calm down! I killed someone!” Oliver snaps. Then deflates instantly, god it sounds so horrible coming out of his mouth.

“Want to talk about it?”

Oliver looks at the man as he sits down next to him. On the bed, it dips with the added weight, the man is large, must work out all the time for that much muscle mass.

“I- I don’t know.”

“If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you about mine.”

Oliver can’t say that he isn’t interested. Oliver has kept this secret so long, maybe- maybe it’d be good to finally get it off his chest. Besides, he’d buried a body with this man, it can’t get much worse from here on.

“It was an accident.” Oliver starts. “I was at a party, some random person house.” Oliver stops himself short, he doesn’t need to give the whole story, it’s not that important. “The- the guy, he wouldn’t stop touching me, I told him to stop, and he didn’t. So, I shoved him, and- and his head hit the table.”

“If it was an accident then why didn’t you just call the police?”

“Because no one can know that I’m gay.” It’s barely a whisper coming out of his mouth but he feels the entire weight of it lifting from his shoulders. That’s the first time he’s ever admitted it out loud. Not even alone to himself has he ever said it.

The man nods slowly, there’s no disgust in his face; he simply processes it and moves on. 

“The man I killed, I hunted down and shot him in the head.”

“Why?”

“Because he killed my wife and son three years ago.”

Oliver gasps, eyes falling to the ring on the man’s finger. He’d noticed it earlier in the car but didn’t say anything. He’s at a loss for words. He should say something, though right? Maybe that he’s sorry for his loss? No, that just seems so… generic.

“I planned every detail out.” The man continues. “After I found him of course, it took a while. But once I did, the planning began. I got him alone, the kill was smooth, barely left a mess for me to clean. Not a trace. No one would know. I planned all of it perfectly.” The man chuckles. “I didn’t plan for you.” He smiles.

Oliver provides his own sad chuckle. “Sorry, I’ve been known to ruin perfectly good things.”

“I wouldn’t say it was all that good.” There’s a pause in the air. “I’d planned to kill myself after.” The man shrugs. “Looks like that’s not happening now.”

If someone would have told Oliver this is how his night would have gone yesterday, he would have asked them what drugs they took, and where they’d got them. Even now it’s happening and he’s not sure he ever left that party. Maybe this is all a dream. Then again the pain in his body is telling him otherwise. It keeps him grounded in the present if it hadn’t, surely he would have drifted off, maybe even went into some kind of shock.

He smiles to himself, with all the pain and panic of the evening, now right in this moment, he feels good, safe. Like all the bad decision led him to this moment and this is where he was meant to be. Which is probably the sappiest thing he’s ever thought and he’s not going to admit it to another living soul so long as he lives. 

“We told each other such personal things, and I don’t even know your name.”

“Slade. Slade Wilson.”

Oliver holds his hand out to shake, and the man takes it, grip feather light, conscious of the burns on Oliver’s hand.

“Oliver Queen.”

 


	3. Most of all Don't painc

The suns peaking and turning the sky hints of blue and yellow when Oliver gets back to his dorm. He slugs to his room locking the door behind him and dropping on his bed with a heavy sigh. Body still aching. He’s exhausted and eyes are already shutting themselves as he’s falling asleep.

The front door slams shut and the vibration echoes through the apartment jumping Oliver out of his sleep.

“Oliver Queen! You get your ass up and out here this second!”

It's Laurel. That much Oliver figures out for himself.  He groans as he sits up. Soreness setting in deep and dull. He opens his door and regrets it as the yelling only gets louder. 

“Where the hell were you last night? I called you like twenty times!”

“Laurel, I’m sorry, I got drunk and I passed out.”

“Where’d you go. We couldn’t find you. Your car was gone. I was worried you drunk drove and were in a ditch somewhere. But now I see that’s not the case, so where were you? Tommy said he thought he saw you leave with someone. Did you sleep with her? What’s her name? Is she still in your room?” She brushes past him into the room looking around and sighing finding no traces of another person in the room.

“No, I didn’t. I just had a shitty night, drunk, ended up in the middle of nowhere. I came back home soon as I was sober enough to.” He shrugs, it’s not the best lie he’s ever had, but it’s not the worst either. It’s vague and somewhat believable. He could work with it.

She nods, and he can see the anger slowly leaving her. “Those aren’t you’re clothes.”

Oliver hesitated, he should have changed as soon as he got back, but he was dead tired. “Oh yeah, I uh, I threw up on mine, and, some guy was kind enough to give me some clothes he had.” And the lie gets flimsier.

“I thought you were in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, well, on my way back, I threw up- Jesus Laurel, I was drunk. I don’t remember the events of the night perfectly. I’m home now, my head is killing me, and I don’t need to have this conversation right now.”

“How about you don’t get black-out drunk and disappear for the whole night! Then we wouldn’t have this conversation.”

He rolls his eyes, which yeah, isn’t going to help his case, but he’s annoyed, sore, and just not having a great day. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Fine, but we are going to have a serious conversation about this when you wake up.”

“Looking forward to it.” He sighs dropping face first onto the bed, which was a bad idea, head throbbing in pain. Laurel slams the door on her way out of the room, and he feels better already. Oliver almost wishes he never left that hotel.

**

_“I think it’s time you head home,” Slade said, after a while._

_“Oh yeah, I- sorry, I shouldn’t have stayed so long- sorry,” Oliver says again, pushing himself off the mattress. They hadn’t been talking. For a while, they’d sat in silence until Slade had put the TV on and began watching midnight cartoons. There was a quiet comment from Slade, about how his son had liked the justice league._

_“You don’t have to leave, I was just saying, that if you want to remain above suspicion, you should get somewhere, where someone can alibi you during these hours. Come up with a vague but believable lie, something no one would bother to check, or that they can’t check. Most of all don’t panic. Panicking is only for the guilty.”_

_“I’m not going to panic, I’m fine.” He’s lying, he’s already panicked twice, and he can tell he might again within the next hour. Slade smiles, and walks over to the nightstand, grabbing a scrap of paper, and writes quickly on it before turning back to Oliver._

_“This is my number, it will be good for the next few days. Call if you need any advice or something goes wrong. If I don’t answer don’t leave a voicemail I won’t get it. I’ll either call you back, or you can forget I ever existed.” Oliver nods, taking the paper._

_“uh- advice?”_

_“On keeping the cops off of you- and you know, what to do the next time you kill someone in self-defense. The quick answer is call the police and deal with being outed later.”_

_Oliver smiles, so they’re already joking about it, great. “Thanks.”_

**

Some part of Oliver wishes he didn’t care about finding an alibi or getting home. He wished that he was still sitting on that lumpy mattress listening to Justice league play in the background as he let his worries slip away.

Now he’s back, and all he can do is worry and try finding a position that doesn’t hurt to lay in as exhaustion overcomes him. Laurel’s no doubt pacing outside his room, wondering exactly how she’s going to give him the third degree. She might even by typing up a speech about how he’s drinking too much, and not spending enough time with her. Dating someone you’re not actually attracted was hard. Sometimes he regrets that he ever started.

At the time finding a girlfriend was just… the smartest thing to do. He was always hanging around guys. People had begun asking him why he wasn’t in a relationship. He didn’t want to raise any suspicion. And Laurel was around, she was nice, funny, smart, and he could deal with Oliver. Or at least she used to. It was like the longer they were together the less patience she had for him. He could tell it was because she wanted to start getting serious, like moving in, getting married. She has this whole idea for what she wants her life to be like, and apparently, she’s beginning to carve a place for Oliver in it.

There came a gentle knock on the door disturbing his thoughts

“Uhg, what now?”

“Oliver, there are two officers here to talk to you.” Oliver bolts upright, eyes going wide. His heart races, he hadn’t expected them to come so quickly. Most of all, don’t panic. Oliver, breathes deeply, relaxing his shoulders. He forces himself to walk slowly to the door. Someone innocent would have nothing to worry about.

He puts on a carefully placid face, one he’s perfected over the past to help hide emotions in desperate moments. His eyes land on the two standing behind Laurel, one woman, one man. They don’t look like average police officers. Oliver would know, he’s seen his fair share.

They both hold out their badges and the woman speaks.

“Oliver Queen?” He nods. “I’m Detective Lowe, and this is Detective Davis. We’d like to bring you in for some questions about a missing person, John Miller.”

Oliver took a deep breath. “Uh sure, let me grab my coat.”

He goes back into the room, grabbing his jacket and his phone. Thinking of the number Slade give him, he pocketed that too. He just hopes this doesn’t end with him in jail.


	4. Who's John Miller?

Oliver waits in what he assumes is the interrogation room. Despite all his drunken encounters with the police, he’s never actually been in one. It’s cold, the fan spinning nosily at the top isn’t helping either. There’s a soda can next to him, someone offered it, but he hasn’t touched it. It seems like a trick of some kind. Like if he drinks it he’s admitting to murder.

So, it sits there, like him. He focuses on it in the silence.

_Don’t panic._

The door opens sometime later. He doesn’t know how long, there’s not a single clock in the room, maybe making him wait is part of the interrogation technique. He can see how it would work. Detective Lowe comes in alone, with a folder in her hands. She sits across from him at the table then opens the folder and slides it over to Oliver, his eyes are drawn to a photo, and he blinks, thinking a few seconds before speaking, because that’s not the guy from the party.

“Um, who is this?”

“That’s John Miller.”

“I’ve never seen this man before.” Oliver say’s shaking his head, looking up to meet her in the eyes.

“Why do you sound surprised, Mr. Queen? Expecting to see someone else’s face in that folder?”

Oh crap. He’s starting to panic, he can feel it in his chest. Breathe Oliver. Don’t hint to anything. _Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic._ Oliver shakes his head slowly.

“No, I- I’m very bad with names, and didn’t want to seem like an asshole when you said the name earlier. I figured it was someone I knew but forgot the name of. But I don’t know this person.” It’s the truth, he’s never seen the guy in his life, and he didn’t know the name of the guy he killed. There wasn’t a whole lot of talking before things turned for the worst. 

“That’s interesting. Considering your car was parked right next to his, for several hours last night.” She says, flipping a page in the folder, revealing a blurry photo of his car and- _that’s Slade’s_ car. Or maybe not Slade’s car apparently, why would Slade be driving someone else’s car?

Unless the man he killed was John Miller.

_Oh no._

Now he’s panicking.

What is he supposed to say? What lie can he make up for this? He knows where this man is buried, and who killed him. He knows this because the body of the man Oliver killed is buried with him. None of this is good, they are going to trace everything back. He wonders if Starling has the death penalty, would he even get it? Probably.

“Mr. Queen?”

“Yes?”

“Care to explain what you were doing at the Hotel last night?”

Oliver needs to just remember the one freaking rule Slade gave him, don’t panic. He needs to do this right. It’s not just his ass on the line, it’s Slade’s too.

“I was um- I was drunk, I needed a place to sober up before I could drive home.”

“I see, were you alone in your hotel room?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do all by yourself for those hours.”

“I watched justice league, and slept.”

Her lips curve, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “And you didn’t happen to see John Miller any time last night? Maybe when you checked in?”

“No, sorry, can’t say I did.” He shrugs, looking back at the picture then to her.

She nods slowly, before turning a third page. “And you didn’t happen to see this man either did you?”

It’s a picture of Slade.

Oliver makes sure to actually look at the photo like someone trying to remember if they’ve seen someone before he shakes his head. “No- I just went straight to my room. I didn’t see anyone but the clerk that night.” Oliver hesitates for a second. “Who is he?”

“His name is Howard Stokes, and he’s presumed missing as well. He’s a friend of John Millers.”

“Oh.” Oliver tries not to react, he tries not to question more. He has to seem like he doesn’t care. Because he wouldn’t care about a stranger, and he wouldn’t be questioning the name of a stranger like he wants to. 

She’s quiet for a moment thinking, then she is standing, closing the folder and picking it up. “Well. Mr. Queen, thank you for your time. If you recall anything, or see anything don’t hesitate to call us. Here’s my card.” She smiles, sliding one over. He puts it in his wallet, because it seems weird to shove it in his pocket.

“Sure. Uh, am I supposed to wait for a ride back?”

“No, someone at the front will call you a cab.”

“Thanks.” He says, then leaves heading for the desk, a woman tells him she’s already called and that the cab will be outside shortly. So. Oliver waits outside, immediately, he pulls his phone, and the number out, dialing it quickly. But hesitates before pressing call. If Slade- or Howard lied to him, then should he trust him? Should he call him? Why would the police lie about Slade’s name? Unless Slade’s some big time criminal and the government doesn’t even know his rea name. Which seems very unlikely.

But, Slade did tell Oliver that he’d planned everything perfectly. Maybe it’s not too far a stretch. Yet, Oliver finds himself still wanting to call, so he presses the button and holds the phone to his ear. Some part of him worries a little that it’s a fake number and everything he knows about Slade-Howard is a lie

 It’s two rings before the phone picks up.

“I didn’t expect you to call so soon.”

Oliver hesitates before he speaks. “I didn’t either, but I just got out of the police station.”

“They found you already? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, surely your guy isn’t even listed as missing.”

“He’s not. It’s yours. John Miller.” Slade goes silent for a moment.

“No, it can’t be. Why would they come to you for that?”

“There’s a picture of my car parked next to yours- or his. Whatever, and they asked me if I’d seen him.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said no, which is true, because I haven’t seen him. Not really.”

“Then it’s good I moved the car last night, and switched hotels.” Slade sounds deep in thought, there’s a slight shuffling, and then a shutter, it sounds familiar, like… blinds being pulled open and let go of suddenly.

“You did?”

“Always think ahead.”

Oliver rolls his eyes. “So, what do we do?”

“Act normal, do everything you normally would do today, even if it’s bad, especially if it’s bad. There’s no better tip to someone hiding something if they suddenly become a good Samaritan.”

“That and panicking right.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Oliver smiles before he even thinks about it. But then it fades as he thinks about the interview again. “Slade, they asked about you too.”

“They did?”

“They had a picture of you… and they said your name was Howard.”

Slade sighs. “They shouldn’t know anything about this yet. What did they say exactly?”

“They said that you’re close with John? They think you’re missing too.”

“Okay, I can work with missing.” There’s sounds of more shuffling. “I have to get rid of this phone and make some arrangements, I call you on a new number around ten okay?”

“uh, okay.” Oliver nods, even though Slade can’t see it.

“Okay, keep your head up and act normal.”

“I will.”

“Bye.”


End file.
